Why Space-Time Continuum Is Not To Be Messed With
by LuminaCarina
Summary: The Dark Lord had gone loony. That was the general consensus among the grunts, while the inner circle members were still debating whether their Lord was insanely brilliant or brilliantly insane. Dimension traveling, time traveling, crack


**Written for the Mirror World challenge!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

All was not right in the Death-Eater lair, and soon repercussions would be felt throughout the rest of magical Britain.

The Dark Lord had gone loony.

That was the general consensus among the grunts, while the inner circle members were still debating whether their Lord was insanely brilliant or brilliantly insane. Malfoy was leaning towards insanity caused by head trauma, while Bellatrix couldn't stop crowing about her Master's genius.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

You see, the whole thing had started quite simply, with the Potter brat once more thwarting the Dark Lord's carefully laid plans.

The Death-Eaters didn't really feel all that bad about their defeat; the cycle of them doing something wicked only for Potter to come and save the day had become rather natural to them, comforting even. They found sanctuary in the knowledge that Potter's abominable goodness was everlasting, and had even started believing it to be a game between Potter and the Dark Lord. Or maybe just the Dark Lord, for Potter's puny brain was almost certainly unable to comprehend the evil genius that the game was.

But, anyway.

The Dark Lord returned from another failed world domination plot, and immediately threw himself into plotting a better plot. He thought and thought, complained to Nagini and crucioed some of the stupider members of the minion force and then thought some more.

And finally, it dawned on him.

No, not the way to kill Potter once and for all, but a way to find a way to kill Potter.

He just had to consult himself.

When he triumphantly revealed his revelation to the inner circle, they just stared. It took a good five minutes for anyone to make a sound, and it was Bellatrix who broke the ice. She cackled maniacally, cooing to the Dark Lord how clever he was.

Now, Voldemort would never admit it, but his most faithful follower disturbed him.

She reminded him of that crazy orphanage lady, who had kept sweeping him up and trying to drown him in her too large bosom, all the while talking to him with that disgusting lisp only babies have. Of course, he had liked it at the time, and had even called her auntie.

Then, one time when he was in first year, he had accidentally called professor Marchbanks 'auntie', and embarrassed himself for the next four years. (After he got the basilisk under his control, no one dared to mock him about that incident.)

The second he killed his family, he went to the orphanage and killed the crazy woman.

Bellatrix was like that fat woman, only she had access to magic and was overly fond of him, so he daren't ever complain about her when she was in earshot.

But, I digress.

After Bellatrix's outburst, Nott gingerly asked him if he was feeling well, with help from his other minions. When they continued to inquire about his mental health Voldemort simply lost patience and crucioed the one closest to him. They shut up after that. Ah, the wonder of magic. Would it ever cease to amaze him?

Once the uppity servants stopped questioning his intellect, he explained. He had to consult himself, but it would do no good to just pose a question to himself and wait for an answer. That would be stupid. And insane. No, what he needed was another him, who could help him take over the world and kill Potter.

So he would summon another version of himself, preferably a Dark Lord version and not some pathetic him who became a teacher or something equally disgraceful. He would then have help with everything he needed, and he would even have a decent partner to play scrabble with. Decent, I say, because not even an alternate version of him could be as magnificent as he was.

Then, after the world was his, he would have to kill the other him, because it wouldn't do to be co-king of the world. That just didn't have a nice ring to it.

His wary underlings retreated to a hall made specifically for them, and Voldemort threw himself to work.

It took him an entire day of inscribing runes and parsel-script and some pretty doodles he made because, well because he could. He was the Dark Lord dammit, with capital letters!

He called his servants to witness the product of his brilliance, and then he started pumping magic into the vaguely heart-shaped array. It glowed.

It glowed, and then it shined, and then it exploded.

Pure chaos commenced among the Death-Eater ranks as they watched their leader blow up into smithereens. Only he didn't explode, but was thrown head-first into a pillar. He passed out there, in an ungraceful heap and drooling a bit.

He came to after a few minutes, which the Death-Eaters had spent arguing who got to be the Dark Lord now that the Dark Lord was dead. They didn't notice his return to the land of the living until he coughed to get their attention. And then they gaped at him.

Because the Dark Lord was looking at them. Patiently.

Very quickly they calmed down, and in less than a minute they were staring at him and waiting for their punishment.

The Dark Lord rose to his feet menacingly, glaring at them with those horrible red eyes, daring them to be anything other than completely submissive. He opened his mouth and the Death-Eaters cringed, tensing up in expectation of a crucio, when…

The Dark Lord smiled.

It wasn't a fiendish smirk he wore when his precious plots were put in motion, it wasn't an evil grin, like the one he had when someone was being tortured, it wasn't even the blissful smile they came to associate with blood-pops. It was a happy, honest-to-Merlin innocent smile.

Which was just wrong on so many levels.

''Hello,'' the creepy person wearing the Dark Lord's body waved, ''I'm Tommy, who are you?''

They stared, internally debating whether to run away screaming or to try and get their Master back into his body.

The imposter blinked and rocked on his heels, whistling a merry tune similar to a children's song.

''You have really funny costumes, you know? They look like granny's funeral dress.''

Ultimately, it was Malfoy who stepped forward. He concluded that their Lord had lost his memories when he hit his head on the pillar, and he hissed out his belief to the others near him. Bellatrix still had a look of deep concentration on her face, and no one wanted to find out what it was she was thinking.

''Hello,'' the Malfoy lord drawled out carefully, ''I am Lucius Malfoy, and they – '' he encompassed the Death-Eaters with a wave of his arm '' – are the Death-Eaters. You… Ahhh… Do you remember who you are?''

The Dark Lord cocked his head and puckered his lips. ''I'm Tommy. What's a Death-Eater?''

''We are… your friends. We're your friends.'' Lucius nodded his head decisively, and the Dark Lord seemed to accept this.

''Okie-dokie. Wanna go play ball?''

''No, you see, um…''

He trailed off awkwardly, because the Dark Lord seemed to wilt before their eyes. An alarming wetness appeared in his eyes, and Lucius panicked.

''Hey, um, let's play another game! How's that? You, er, children have many games, don't they?''

''What kinda game?'' he asked, perking up like an over-eager puppy. Or a baby snake, or… Some puppy/snake hybrid?

''Take over the world. That's the game, right? You have to be crowned the King of the World, and then you win. Right?''

And those were the words to condemn the entire world to madness and, well, I would say misery, but it's more like euphoric joy.

The Dark Lord happily started plotting, but his plots were… different.

''I can't kill the muggleborns, I'm a good boy!''

Little over a year later, Lord Tommy Voldemort was crowned King of the World, and his first decree was for everyone to learn the happy dance. His other laws and orders were just as silly, but they seemed to work, as everyone was happy and nice.

Meanwhile, his evil, grown-up Dark Lord version was being dragged around by a fat red-haired lady, who kept stuffing him with food.

''Let go of me, you accursed wench! I am Lord Voldemort, not some silly child!''

''Now, now Tommy. Only good boys get to eat dessert. Bad boys have to eat broccoli. Now open up!''

**Now, what do you think? **

**The first Lord Voldemort is the canon version, and the second one is what he would have been like had he been adopted as a child. Also, in case you haven't noticed, the alternate version of Voldie is still just a kid.**

**Anyway, reviews would be lovely.**


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